


With Words Unsaid

by TooManyPsuedonyms



Series: Mobile Thoughts [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Brave Boy Will, Class Differences, Drabble, Gen, High School AU, I originally called this piece Hanni?? Don't Remember Why, M/M, Mentioned Characters, One-Shot, Protective Hannibal Lecter, So Much Implied Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyPsuedonyms/pseuds/TooManyPsuedonyms
Summary: You're not suppose to talk in libraries. Hannibal and Will do anyways.But, nothing is said so much as not said.Let's blame it on young, dumb love.





	With Words Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> This was suppose to be longer.
> 
> It was not.
> 
> Not at all related to the actual kid fic I wrote oh-so long ago... sorry!

He takes Will by the shoulder, turns him, perhaps harsher than he meant to. His fingers, likewise, a cutting grip against Will’s chin.

 

“Who...?” He demands, voice soft at first. Will says nothing, and Hannibal’s rust colored eyes narrow, studying the bruises and cuts littering Will’s face. “Do not make me ask again.”  


 

“I’m fine,” Will mumbles, tries to shrug him off. Hannibal backs him against the bookshelf, splays his hand wide and forces Will’s head to turn.   


 

“Will—“   


 

“I didn’t get a good look at him anyway so it’s not like—“   


 

A sigh, “Oh, Will...”   


 

Hannibal doesn’t quite melt, but his grip loosens enough that Will could shake his grasp. Will does not. His back is against the dusty books of the library. He’s still holding onto his binder full of class notes. Hannibal hangs over him, shadows him, fingers gently trace the edges of a fresh bandage.   


 

“I leave you alone for one day...”   


 

“You aren’t my guardian,” Will mutters, but there’s no malice in it. He peers up through his lashes to see Hannibal smiling. It causes Will to frown, and ask, “What?”   


 

“Knowing you... someone did something they weren’t suppose to?”   


 

Will tsks, deciding to free himself from Hannibal’s hands now. Hannibal, ever the gentlemen in training, let’s him. They walk side by side to find a table to study at. Will is ignoring the question, Hannibal poses no more, instead, watches as Will grumpily flips through his notes.   


 

“... it was the stray...” Will finally says, perhaps an hour later, after the anger has faded. Hannibal, who has perhaps also not let his gaze linger off Will for very long, nearly starts at the sudden admission. Will looks up, meets Hannibal’s eyes. There is no guilt in them, but something else. “And I just... I couldn’t let them torture Winston like that.”   


 

“I’m sorry, Will...” Hannibal says it, and it sounds very much like he means it. Will is surprised how much Hannibal has grown. He is surprised more and more each day.   


 

Will sighs, scratches at his bandages unconsciously, “Well... you should see the other guy...”   


 

Hannibal smiles again, wider. Only then does he look away from Will. This does not surprise Will—Hannibal always looks away when he learns he’s capable of some new, intense emotion.   


 

Will wonders what it is.   


 

He does not look back to share it with Will... and this, too, makes him wonder. Normally, Hannibal is unabashed. Shares no qualms. Will decides to change the subject...   


 

“What did you do yesterday anyways?”   


 

Hannibal tilts his head to the side, leans his chin into his large palm and sighs, “My aunt returned. We spent the day together.”   


 

“You love your aunt,” Will dumbly points out.   


 

“Very much...”   


 

“Then why do you sound like it was a bother?” Will asked.   


 

Hannibal does shrug, it’s not what a polite person does—however, he comes close to it. He stops the motion and looks at Will. “I suppose because... I wanted you to be there too...”   


 

Will blushes, despite himself, and glances down at his notes to hide it.   


 

“She’ll be in town for the next week. Have dinner with us,” he demands again, more than suggests. Will scratches at his cheek. Thinks of his wily hair. Of his poorly hemmed pants, re-buttoned shirts, and dirty school jacket.   


 

“I dunno, Hannibal...” Will answers, “I’m not the, uh, socialite type. I doubt she’d want us to be friends—“   


 

“She’ll love you,” Hannibal says... and there is something about the way he says it. As if this is a secret message. A thing hiding in the words, or perhaps between them. Although Hannibal is speaking English, and can speak others just as fluently, it sounds foreign. He says these words in a way that it seems as if he speaks something else.   


 

“Alright...” is all Will replies with.

 

And for a while, it is alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked!
> 
> Don't know if I should continue this like I planned? I kind of like the short, unresolved endings in drabbles. Don't ask why. Sometimes I just feel the need to set up a story and then... let every reader who comes across it down.  
> Ugh. I am terrible.


End file.
